


midsummer shower

by tentography



Series: spring, summer (and everything in between) [2]
Category: NCT (Band), WAYV
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Shenanigans, Summer Vacation, again i implore u to not be a dick to ur classmates, johnny and his guitar, kun and his big brain, popsicles and airconditioning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:06:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25661077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tentography/pseuds/tentography
Summary: "My parents won't be home at all the upcoming month,” Kun mulls, absentmindedly tugging at the perfect white collar of his uniform shirt, frowning when he realizes it's still damp. "I don’t have anything planned. You can come over any time you want, if you'd like that is."Johnny's mouth curls into a grin, resting his cheek on his palm in a languid movement and Kun already knows that he's going to want to punch Johnny for whatever comes out of his mouth next. "I ask for your number and you practically give me a key to your house."Kun rolls his eyes, bowing over his nearly finished homework before Johnny can see the flush forming high on his cheeks. "Got a problem with that?"
Relationships: Suh Youngho | Johnny/Qian Kun
Series: spring, summer (and everything in between) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860382
Comments: 5
Kudos: 83





	midsummer shower

"It's going to rain soon," a voice calls out from the back of the classroom.

A few students turn their heads to look out the window, peering at the clouds to gauge the truth of the statement. Some students lament forgotten umbrellas, others are happy that they haven't brought theirs for nothing. It's idle chatter, the kind that's only permitted in the senior's self study hours that make up most of their schedules nowadays, the supervising teacher already called away from the classroom a long time ago.

In the front, Kun pays the commotion no mind as he reads his novel, having finished his self-study earlier in the hour. No one notices the tension in his shoulders or his white knuckles gripping the pages of his book, his umbrella laying atop the bag at his feet. 

It had been a day like this, almost a year ago to the date, a few weeks into their second semester following an unforgettable summer break. The weather had been characteristically hot for the season, though there'd still been the occasional summer shower. 

Kun remembers it well. The late night convenience store runs, angry red mosquito bite welts, chocolate Papico flavoured kisses, and that bittersweet end of the summer. 

-

"Can I have your number?"

The question makes Kun look up from his geography homework, cocking his head at the faint uncertainty laced in Johnny's voice. 

"I thought-" Johnny continues before Kun can answer, fiddling with the straw of his Iced Americano. "Summer break starts next week. We should hang out if you have time."

Kun watches Johnny squirm across from him in the little booth at their favourite café, amused at the clinking sound of ice cubes dancing around in Johnny's way too large cup of iced coffee. "Don't you have work?"

Johnny shakes his head, abandoning his straw to pull up his schedule on his laptop for Kun to see. "I quit my job at that burger joint and I'm cutting down on shifts at the music store. I kind of want to work on new stuff and maybe, I don't know, hang out with you?"

"My parents won't be home at all the upcoming month,” Kun mulls, absentmindedly tugging at the perfect white collar of his uniform shirt, frowning when he realizes it's still damp. "I don’t have anything planned. You can come over any time you want, if you'd like that is."

Johnny's mouth curls into a grin, resting his cheek on his palm in a languid movement and Kun already knows that he's going to want to punch Johnny for whatever comes out of his mouth next. "I ask for your number and you practically give me a key to your house."

Kun rolls his eyes, bowing over his nearly finished homework before Johnny can see the flush forming high on his cheeks. "Got a problem with that?"

Johnny laughs and Kun can hear him go back to clicking away at his laptop. "Nope, no problem at all."

-

Johnny doesn't call him once that summer despite having diligently written down his phone number and address on the inside of his arm. Kun had yelled at him to write it down on a piece of paper, but Johnny had insisted on boldly scribbling the information with a big black marker. The heady scent of chemicals lingering in Kun's mind long after they'd parted that day. 

Instead of calling, though, Johnny just shows up at Kun's doorstep on the second day of their two week vacation.

"How did you get past the doorman?" Kun says as he swings open his front door to a grinning Johnny Suh.

"Mrs Choi from apartment 809 let me in. She let me pet her bichon frise and gave me this juice for pressing the button to her floor when we got on the elevator," Johnny shrugs, tapping the glass bottle of juice cradled in his arm.

Kun takes the bottle from Johnny with a frown. "Who? Oh, I love this brand of juice." 

Johnny snorts, shuffling on his feet. "Are you going to let me in or should I camp out in the hallway? The carpet is nice, though."

"Right, sorry," Kun says distractedly, ushering Johnny inside and handing him a new pair of guest slippers. "You can put your guitar and stuff wherever."

Johnny carefully steps out of his beat-up sneakers and slips into the soft and comfortable slippers with a sigh. He follows Kun into the living room, resting his guitar against the large couch before rushing over to the floor to ceiling window taking up the entire far side of the room with a sharp whistle. 

"Look at the view! You can see our school from here and the river across from my house!" Johnny exclaims, barely containing himself from pressing his nose against the window as he turns to look at Kun still hovering near the hallway. "What?" 

Kun shrugs avoiding Johnny's stare as he rubs at his neck. "Nothing."

Johnny steps closer. "You look kind of funny."

"No, I don't." Kun steps back.

"Yes, you do," Johnny quips. "Why do you look like you're about to hurl and why are you not looking at me?"

"Let it go, Johnny," Kun mumbles, shuffling away.

"No." Johnny shifts, moving into Kun's line of sight. "Hey, are you okay?"

Kun groans and Johnny would've laughed if he wasn't so concerned about him.

Kun worries at his lip before replying in a whisper. "Your clothes."

"What's wrong with my clothes?" Johnny asks defensively, looking down at his black cotton t-shirt and yeah it might be a little bit old but _shit_ that's not what Kun means at all.

"You look really good in jeans and a shirt and it kind of threw me off okay," he splutters, spitting out the words before Johnny misunderstands.

"Oh," Johnny says in a breathless whisper, watching Kun storm off down the hall. "Thank you," he says to the empty space now absent of Kun, feeling too silly and flattered and bashful to say it to his face.

"Do you want anything to drink?" Kun calls out from wherever he’s gone and Johnny follows the sound.

He makes his way down the hall and into a spacious kitchen, finding Kun leaning into the fridge as he assesses its content. Kun's cheeks are still rosy, his fingers tightly gripping the hem of his oversized lounge shirt Johnny is only just now noticing. He moves to look over Kun's shoulder, smiling as Kun lets out a small gasp at their proximity. 

Nestled in between vitamin waters, super foods and fruit juices are neat rows of Johnny's favourite canned coffee, exactly the kind that Kun doesn’t like to drink. Honestly, he really can't help but press Kun against the fridge, the heavy door falling shut with a thud. 

"Johnny what-" Kun squeaks out, but Johnny kisses away the rest of his sentence, nipping at his lower lip in the hopes that Kun sees it for the apology that it is.

Kun is always fast on the uptake, though, catching on quickly and looping his arms over Johnny's neck to tug him closer, accepting and trusting. Johnny sighs, marvelling at the contrast between the cool metal of the sleek Samsung Smart Fridge and Kun's heated skin.

-

"Let's go out," Kun says, his voice muffled by the book laying open on his face. He's been trying to finish this novel for the past few days, but his English reading comprehension has never been stellar. It doesn't help that he keeps getting distracted every time he glances over to see what Johnny's scribbling down in his notebook, what he's playing, what he's thinking. 

"There's no air conditioning outside," Johnny hums from where he’s sitting on the floor, strumming his guitar in a now all too familiar tune. This song is going to be one of Kun’s favourites when Johnny’s finished with it, he knows that much already.

Kun considers the valid retort, peeking at Johnny from beneath his novel. He doesn't want to sit at home any longer, but he also shudders at the thought of having to go out in the heat. He pulls himself up, hissing at the crack of his bones. "The 7-Eleven has air conditioning. Let's get ice cream. I don't have any at home."

Johnny looks up at him, his lips still pursed in concentration and Kun has to remind himself to look Johnny in the eye. "Alright, let me finish this before I forget what I was doing." 

Kun hauls himself off the couch, grabbing his wallet from the table, running his hand through Johnny's hair as he passes him, laughing when Johnny protests weakly at the assault. Johnny is always a bit hazy after working on his music for longer periods of time, his brain taking it's sweet time to boot back up to face the outside world.

It is only when they're in the elevator that Johnny remembers how to speak, pressing the button for the ground floor. "So, which version of your novel do you like better? English? Korean? Or the Chinese version?"

"Korean, I think," Kun contemplates, going over the novel and what he remembers from the multitude of translations he’s read. “I'm not sure though, the English version was kind of hard to follow."

"You're getting there. You'll be better at English than me in no time for sure." Johnny has watched Kun work his way through an endless amount of books in more languages than he cares to count over the past week. The sight of Kun vigorously taking notes and cross-referencing multiple dictionaries etched into his mind for the rest of his life.

"That's not exactly hard." 

"Ouch, you wound me."

Kun stick out his tongue at Johnny. "You'll get over it."

They bicker back and forth for the sake of bickering as they make their way to the convenience store across the street, heatwaves blurring the asphalt as the setting sun beats down on their backs in its final minutes of glory. Once they're inside the freezing cold of the 7-Eleven, Kun wastes no time in pushing a basket in Johnny's hands to shut him up, loading it up with snacks as they peruse the aisles and fight the goosebumps.

Back outside in the barely cooled down night, bags full of snacks and sweets hanging from their wrists, they rush to open their freshly bought ice cream, not waiting until they’re inside to enjoy the treats.

Kun looks at his watch, shaking his head at the hot temperature despite the late hour, sucking at the plastic tube of his chocolate Papico. "It's late." 

"Yeah, it is," Johnny says, focused on his cherry Popsicle.

"You could stay over," Kun starts, distracted by the sight of Johnny's already bright red tongue. He coughs, turning away. "If you want, I mean. I know you have a shift early tomorrow morning, but your work is closer to my house than yours."

A rustle of plastic, and a sharp intake of breath. "Okay," Johnny says, voice soft. 

Kun chances a look at Johnny at the simple reply, his breath catching in his throat at the red tips of Johnny's ears, almost rivalling the bright red of his tongue.

Johnny's left-hand bumps into Kun's hip. Determined, Kun stuffs his Papico in his mouth and snakes his now free hand into Johnny's. Interlocking his fingers with Johnny's, neither of them minding the sticky cold wetness of fast-melting ice cream and sweat. 

That summer was when it happened, alongside the soundtrack of Johnny's new music, the soft flutter of pages turning in a steady rhythm, and the quiet whirring of the air conditioning cooling down the apartment. It was then, after pointless discussions on what to eat and what to do, in between Popsicles and cold noodles, textured with the softest blue jeans and linen pyjamas. As the moonlight filtered in from their hideout twelve floors high, sparked by the muggy heat and innocent curiosity, they engraved into each other one first time after another. 

-

"Look at this," Kun says from the couch where he's flopped on his belly, nudging Johnny's back with his foot as he’s strumming his guitar on the floor.

Johnny grabs him by the ankle, eyes crinkling at Kun's yelp before craning his neck to look at the screen of Kun's laptop.

An open audition. A call to send in demos. A famous record label in the States. An opportunity to become famous. Johnny bites his lip. "I don't know."

"I do," Kun says like it is a simple matter of fact and he knows so much that Johnny is always inclined to believe whatever he says. "You've been working so hard and you sound amazing. It wouldn't hurt to send in your music."

Johnny turns back to his own laptop on the glass coffee table, poking at the stickers littered across the surface. "My stuff’s not good yet."

Kun slides off the couch in a less than elegant move, draping himself over Johnny's warm back. "It's good. _You're_ good. You're actually really fucking great."

The curse makes Johnny smile and he leans back into the touch as he remembers that time he taught Kun all the Korean swearwords he'd ever need in his life. "You're just saying that 'cause you like me."

"I barely like you," Kun snorts, poking at the tense muscles in Johnny's neck. "I'm not just saying things. I love your music and I think others would, too."

"No, not yet." Johnny swats away Kun's fingers.

"Please?" Kun whispers against the bare skin of his left shoulder where his loose tank top has slipped off, and Johnny knows it is a dirty move meant to fuck with his head but he is only a simple boy.

"Okay,"he agrees without much struggle, turning slightly to bite at Kun's soft earlobe, warmed by the sun. 

Johnny thinks that no matter what happens, it's worth it already for the brightness in Kun's eyes and the sweetness in his voice as he drags his laptop to the floor to fill out his application. The sunlight filters in through the window, reflecting off the shiny surface of his guitar laying snugly in the carpet by their entangled legs. 

-

It was still good back then, between the end of the summer and the start of a new semester. Rolling from the bedroom to the living room, hanging over the rails of the balcony at night fighting off mosquitoes with hard slaps and burning incense, the sometimes insurmountable distance between the 7-Eleven and the apartment on heat-hazed days. The destinations of their sparse outings wholly dependent on the presence of cooled air and soda pops. 

"Tomorrow's the last day of that fair by the river. Do you still want to go? It says here that there's gonna be fireworks." Laying on top of Kun's bamboo summer blanket on his king-sized bed, Johnny smiles as Kun's freshly washed hair tickles his nose while he scrolls through the updates on his feed. 

"Sure," Kun mumbles, squinting at the cracked screen of Johnny's iPhone 4S. Kun nuzzles closer, rubbing his cheek against the soft jersey of Johnny's pyjama shirt. He's a little cold wearing only his pyjama shorts, but he's too lazy to move underneath the blankets and too stubborn to pull on the sweater Johnny told him to wear before they'd crawled into bed.

Accompanied by sticky skin (promptly followed by cold showers) and runny noses due to constant exposure to chilled air, they did nothing of particular importance with their free time during their summer break.

-

It was right before they made the switch from their thin spring/summer uniforms to the thicker layers of their autumn/winter wear that everything had to change. 

His last class for the day has ended and Kun is sluggish in his movements as he packs his bag, not looking forward to facing the sweltering heat outside. He reaches down to grab his bag and leave, but a familiar figure in the corner of his eye causes him to straighten back up. 

Outside the classroom, just across the door, Johnny’s leaning against the window watching the students file out. The sunlight hits him from behind just _so,_ illuminating the dust slowly fluttering around him without a care in the world. Not a single spot on his uniform is wet or damp, and the unfamiliarity of the sight briefly arrests Kun. Their gazes meet from the open door and Kun knows immediately that something is wrong _._

Johnny kicks off from the window, jerking his head in a sign to follow him before disappearing into the mass of students. With a heavy heart, Kun grabs his bag and trails after.

It isn't hard to keep track of Johnny among the sea of students, his head full of soft brown hair sticking out like a sore thumb among the shorter students. In any other situation, Kun would laugh at the view, but right now all he feels is dread bubbling in the pit of his stomach and the constricting summer heat sticking to his uniform blouse. 

He follows Johnny all the way from the second year's building to the senior's wing, across the courtyard and down to the emergency exit of the old gymnasium, lagging only a few steps behind. Kun closes the remaining distance between them when Johnny finally comes to a stop, his shadow sinking into Johnny's.

They stand next to each other, motionless for what feels like an eternity as they settle the unease thumping through their chests. 

There are too many people around for this, Kun thinks, and he can’t stop his mind from zeroing in on the sounds. The laughter of schoolgirls and the flutter of their uniform skirts. A ball being kicked followed by a resounding cheer and hollers. A teacher writing on a blackboard, the chalk dragging and drumming across the surface in a steady tap, tap, tap. 

It's too close. It's too loud. He wants to cover his ears and run away, but Johnny must not feel the same way because he sighs and drops down to sit on the grass, warmed by the harsh sunlight. 

Kun has no other choice but to settle in next to him. Tugging at the dry strands tickling at his ankles, he waits for Johnny to talk.

"This is different," Johnny says eventually, and Kun shivers by the hands of a cool breeze filtering through the tender green-leaved bushes. 

"It is," Kun agrees, a little late. 

"Kun," Johnny says, his voice cracking over his name. "They want to sign me. I’m leaving for America next week."

-

“The show is cancelled. I can’t believe we came out in this fucking heat for nothing,” Johnny says, raising his voice over the sound of squealing children, carousel music, and beckoning food vendors.

“What, why?” Kun asks as he steps aside to let a family of five pass by, coming to stand closer to Johnny at the western entrance of the fair.

It's hot. Really, incredibly, stupidly, hot even though it's already eight o'clock in the evening and they've just walked all the way from Kun's apartment to the river where the annual midsummer fair is going on in full swing. The turnout is huge despite the heat: families, couples and friends all flocking to enjoy over-priced food and rigged games before it's all taken down come morning. 

Johnny turns over the leaflet, skimming over the programme contents and area map with a sigh. "I dunno, it doesn't say."

"Oh, that's a bummer. Do you want to go back ho-" Kun begins to say, but the sentence flies away from him and the rest of his words stay stuck in his throat.

Johnny looks up from the leaflet to see Kun's mouth agape and his eyes focused on something in the distance.

"Look," Kun starts, pulling vigorously at Johnny's arm as he leads them through a swarm of sweaty people. "They're selling fried cheesecake, what the hell!"

Johnny snakes his hand into Kun's, grinning when Kun turns back to look at him with wide eyes, a faint blush on his already over-excited face. "I'll buy you a slice."

Kun doesn't answer. Instead, he turns back around, snaking through the crowd with determination, his slightly sweaty fingers squeezing Johnny's.

Maybe they didn't come out for nothing after all.

Two hours, countless of deep-fried snacks and many failed shooting booth attempts later, they're sitting in the grass by the river as Kun rubs Johnny's sweat-damp back. His stomach hurts, both from laughing at Kun's failed attempts at trying to win him a little bear charm and the four corn dogs he'd (successfully) wolfed down in one sitting when Kun said he couldn't do it. Naturally, Johnny had to prove him wrong.

It was totally worth it, though, Johnny thinks with his head hanging between his knees. He's feeling better by the second, every scolding word Kun whispers into his ear healing him more efficiently than any medicine ever could.

"Honestly Johnny, I _told_ you that third corn dog wasn't a good idea and what do you do? You practically inhaled it and _ordered another one._ "

"I know," Johnny groans, letting out a burp. "I was there."

Kun thwacks him on the back. "Were you, though? Where was your brain, Johnny."

"It malfunctions when I'm around you," Johnny grunts out miserably, but Kun can hear the smirk in his voice.

"Shut up," Kun replies, giving Johnny a slight push.

Johnny's head shoots up and he catches Kun in his arms. Kun tries to shove him away out of reflex more than anything else, but Johnny doesn't budge and pulls him closer instead.

"Feeling better already?" Kun asks, voice muffled by Johnny's shirt. He shifts his head, resting his cheek on Johnny's sensitive shoulders, smelling faintly of sunshine and salty sweat.

"I told you my stomach is made out of iron," Johnny says, and he briefly feels Kun's smile against the skin of his neck before they pull away, mindful of the people around them. 

They shift to sit side by side, watching the river flow in a lazy speed, their tanned shoulders barely touching as the light dusting of hair on their arms tickle one another. If it were possible, Johnny would want this moment to last forever. The drop of sweat rolling slowly past Kun's dimples, the sting of the slight sunburn on his shoulders, and the cloying warmth of this midsummer night. He wants to preserve these feelings and this summer in a continuous loop of comfort and happiness.

Johnny quirks his head to say something to Kun, but a fat raindrop plops down right on Kun's nose, making him scrunch his nose and Johnny laughs. 

Kun cranes his neck to look up at the sky, squinting his eyes at the heavy drizzle pouring harder by the second. "Oh, this is why they cancelled the fireworks."

People pack up their things around them, fleeing the riverbank as fast as they can. Kun catches Johnny's gaze and they share a look, grinning widely. 

Overcome by the urge to touch and never let go, Johnny reaches out to Kun, right where the fabric of his top starts to cling to the jut of his hip, the pounding rain soaking them to the bone in less than a minute. But before his fingertips can complete their precarious mission, Kun gets on his feet and runs off, calling at him to hurry it up.

His hovering fingers close into a fist and Johnny watches on in surprise as Kun's lean figure is illuminated by the moonlight, scattered in the reflection of the river. Dazed, he stands up, shaking out his legs before running after the other. He catches up in no time, his long limbs rustling against the tall wet grass. Kun let's out a delighted gasp when Johnny overtakes him and Johnny's heart thumps in his chest as Kun starts to speed up to pass him again. 

They run along the riverbank, chasing each other as the sky gradually starts to darken more and more, their shoes gross and muddy and their pants stained beyond recognition. Johnny yells out that he can't run this much, his stomach protesting loudly as he trails behind Kun. But Kun can’t stop the chortle escaping his mouth at Johnny’s woes, nor can he stop his hand that reaches out to the shuddering bushes lining the riverbank as he keeps on running. 

Kun realises, then, that he has never felt this much of anything. This is it, he thinks as his lungs scream for air and the warm summer rain beats down on his already overheated body, the slippery soft green leaves caressing the skin of his palm. This is what it means to be alive. He only skids to a stop when he hears Johnny falter behind him. He turns, then, his low sneakers squeaking in the wet grass and he almost slips if Johnny's hadn't rushed out to stabilise him.

"Have you ever seen something this beautiful?" Kun pants out the words, laughing as he adjusts Johnny's hands encircling his waist to hold him closer. 

The rain rolls across the river in violent waves now and the wind ripples the water in vicious streaks. The trees groan at the assault of the storm, and Johnny is minutely concerned that the heavy branches will break off from the force of the downpour. But all he can focus on right now is the spark in Kun's eyes and the blood pumping through his body at the electrifying sound of his laughter. 

Johnny's breath catches in his throat and he clutches Kun's soaked tank top with trembling fingers, the touch burning hot. "I've never seen anything like it."

-

"Qian."

Kun startles at the foreign sound of his name being spoken by a student, the sudden pressure of his fingers against the blackboard crumbling the tip of his piece of chalk. He looks down, frowning at the white dust now scattered on the floor he just swiped. He didn't expect to be spoken to today. 

"You-" The voice starts, only continuing when Kun reluctantly looks up from the ground to face his classmate. Kun tries not to let his confusion show on his face, he doesn't know who this guy is but the pin on his uniform blazer tells him they're in the same class. "You were friends with Suh, right? The one who transferred to our school about the same time you did but dropped out halfway through his senior year? Do you still have his number?"

Kun pauses before clearing his throat. "Suh? I don't know him."

His classmate knits his brows in confusion, looking back to a few people looking on and whispering in the back of the classroom. "Really? People are saying he's famous in the West now though and I thought that.."

"Sorry," Kun cuts him off, turning back to the blackboard, not waiting for his bullshit classmates to leave him alone.

"Never mind then," the classmate scoffs, stomping back to the now jeering gaggle of students in the back. Kun hides a smile as he finishes preparing the board for tomorrow's classes. 

That day, after school, Kun plugs in his earphones into his phone as he pulls out his umbrella. While the rain beats against sturdy nylon, Kun taps one-handedly at the screen of his phone, balancing his umbrella and bag in the other with practised ease. He smiles, fingers reaching out to catch a raindrop in his palm as Johnny's voice fills his ears. 

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd as always. Sorry for mistakes its 5 am and i just spent the last hour listening to carousel music which goes off by the way. Thank you I love u see you later for now !


End file.
